


Gastroenteritis

by Kittles123



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-11 01:58:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17437718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittles123/pseuds/Kittles123
Summary: Modern AU in which someone gets "the flu" and and things don't go according to plan.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TeamGwenee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamGwenee/gifts).



> To the wonderful, creative TeamGwenee, whose words were “Christmas Eve, Flu, Quarantine.” Your fic is so very original and lovely and I enjoy it immensely. I apologize for how late this is, and I sincerely hope you enjoy it!
> 
> So, just a heads up: someone throws up, but not on anyone else, and its not the point of the story, but fair warning :)
> 
> More chapters to come.

Brienne Tarth reclined in her seat aboard the Gold Road Express and gazed out the window.  Snow blanketed the rolling hillside, and beyond lay the frozen God’s Eye with the Isle of Faces rising from its center like a tower of ice.  After rounding the northern shore, the bullet train veered south and charged on toward the west coast of Westeros, plowing forward with no regard for the current weather conditions.

Brienne looked at her cell phone, her eyelids heavy.  12:04am. It was Christmas Eve now technically, and she’d left the island of Skagos nearly 24 hours ago.  The first leg of her journey had been by boat from the northerly island to the port of White Harbor. Then she’d taken an older passenger train to Darry.  Finally within the perimeter of real civilization, she’d been able to board a modern bullet train to Lannisport. It would be nearly four hours still until she’d arrive, and she desperately wanted to sleep.

But she couldn’t.  She shifted around in her chair, that, while it conceded more legroom than an airliner, was still not spacious enough for her long legs.  Her tote and garment bag were stowed above her, but she kept her purse close. The train had free wifi so she began to flip through her phone, idly browsing her favorite websites.  The articles hadn’t changed since the last time she’d looked, and it made her sigh out loud it was so mind-numbingly boring. Then her thumb hovered over the “messages” key.  _ Stop it, you’re pathetic. _  But she clicked the key anyway.  The name at the top of the list, though it wasn’t the one she was looking for, made her feel warm and content inside, reminding her that the journey would be worth it in the end.   _ Dad _ .

_ Can’t wait to see you.  The house looks like a holiday store exploded in it.  Debbie is excited to see you again, too. _

Debbie.  Her father’s new wife.  The woman was nice, no doubt, and Brienne felt confident that the woman would take care of her father in Brienne’s absence.  She’d had to leave him behind when Tarth Hotels had begun a project on the island of Skagos. The northern lights were amazing there, and travelers were already clambering to secure a reservation at one of the glass-roofed villas even though the hotel was not even open yet.  But it had meant that Brienne would be living up there as project manager until the build was complete.

Brienne didn’t even know Debbie, not really.  And it felt strange to think that there would be an interloper at the family Christmas celebration.  Brienne had bought Debbie a present--a very impersonal scarf and pair of earrings--but she’d done it last minute and as a panic buy, and she hoped it didn’t come across as careless.

All of this was assuming that she survived the mandatory Christmas Eve party at West Coast Insurance.

That got her thumb to flick down to the next name in her message log, the one she’d meant to look at before she’d gotten distracted by her father’s message.   _ Jaime Lannister.   _ Just as she was about to open the message history, a new one popped up from him.  Brienne’s pulse quickened, but she quickly chastised herself into submission. She’d grown fond of Jaime, no doubt, but he was just a business associate, the insurance representative for Tarth Hotels.  And he was an ass, at least that had been her first impression. She’d been forced into running a 24 hour trail relay race with him when Tarth Hotels had first hired West Coast Insurance to provide coverage for their company.  Her father had thought she’d enjoy it, and she’d thought she would too, until she met Jaime Lannister.

He’d been a complete jerk at first.  Pompous, annoying, and sarcastic to a fault.  But as the trail race wore on and they both realized how grueling it would be, they became comrades in misery.  The rest of the team was experienced--Tywin Lannister made sure he recruited his company’s best--but neither she nor Jaime had run a Hafthor before.  They’d ended up running the last legs of the race together on no sleep and in the pouring rain, and from then on Jaime had been Tarth Hotel’s personal insurance agent.  And they’d become texting buddies. Sometimes she wondered if he was flirting with her, but it was so difficult to tell in text.

_ You’re still coming, right?  Don’t make me go to this alone.  If you’re not there, who am I going to use as a human shield against all the businessmen in suits? _

A flush crept up Brienne’s neck and she smiled as she read the words.  Gods, she wanted to see him. She’d even let her friends pick out her clothes and make-up for the occasion .  Ridiculous, she knew, and no doubt she would feel uncomfortable wearing them. But her friends had insisted she looked amazing, and she had to admit when they’d taken pictures of her and shown her, she could barely recognize herself.  A one-shoulder black column dress and eyeliner and lip gloss were in the compartment overhead. Now, if she could only get the eyeliner to go on right--

Brienne’s mouth started to water, and she swallowed a few times and took a deep breath.  Odd. She reached down to grab her water bottle from the cup holder and then a full-blown wave of nausea hit her. Sitting upright promptly, she quickly found the horizon outside the train window and took a drink of her water.  The feeling subsided. Strange, she wasn’t one to get motion sickness. Her phone was still in her hand, and she remembered she needed to text Jaime back. It was past midnight and the thought of what exactly he was doing right now did cross her mind.  But whatever--or whoever--it was, it wasn’t enough to make him forget about her.

_ Yes, on the Gold Road Express.  Red eye. I’ll be in at 4am, then hotel and sleep until party.  Man up, I’m not going to be your human shield. _

Brienne clicked “send” and then laid back, closed her eyes and allowed herself to think about Jaime, just a little bit.  The way he stayed by her side during the last grueling legs of the trail run, the intimate text messages… well, intimate as in personal, not as in sexual.  She sighed out loud at the thought then clamped her mouth shut. She needed to get it together. It was one thing to swoon over his texts and an absolute other thing to swoon  _ in front  _ of him.  They were friends, work associates, that's all.  But try as she might, she couldn’t stop thinking about how his arms had felt around her when he’d hugged her at the bar after the race.  The memory sent a deep warmth through her belly and put a smile on her face, and she nodded off as the train raced westward.


	2. Chapter 2

Jaime grinned when his phone lit up with a response from Brienne.  He was in his room at the Sapphire Isle Hotel in Lannisport, having arrived that morning.  The party would take place in the grand ballroom of the hotel as his father owned this particular branch of the Tarth hotel empire.  He’d been nervous Brienne would think of some excuse to not show up to the party. And that would have been well within her rights--it was extremely narcissistic and very Lannister-esque to throw a company party on Christmas Eve, especially when many people had to travel for it.  But when Tywin said “jump” the world said “how high?” It helped that his father was CEO of the most prestigious insurance company in Westeros. Hells, they’d even gotten the contract to insure the fucking  _ Wall. _

Satisfied that Brienne would be attending, Jaime rolled onto his side and snuggled down into the pillow.  He couldn’t wait to see her, that sour expression she gave him every time he made a smart ass comment, the way she gave as good as got, never cowing or fawning over him, even though he was the proverbial heir to the insurance throne.  No, in fact she did the opposite of fawn. She busted his balls. And when they’d run that trail race together in the pitch black of night, stumbling over rocks and roots, he’d questioned their sanity. He’d said he could call a car and they could just drive the rest of the way and no one would be the wiser.  But she’d squashed that. “Where is your honor??” she’d scolded. “We’re not stopping until we cross that finish line together; I don’t care if I have to drag you myself.”

Then she’d pushed the pace, daring him to keep up, and suddenly she was fucking  _ singing _ and it was so surreal and miserable and amazing.   _ Don’t stop me now, because I’m having a good time.   _ He chuckled into the pillow remembering the lyrics.  They crossed the finish line together and it was the most alive he’d ever felt.  They were bloodied and scratched and smelled riper than cavemen, but they’d done it.

 

The next morning Jaime still had the song in his head as he went about his day.  He knew Brienne would be sleeping, she’d told him as much, so after he got an “I got here safe” text from her, he let her be.  No excuses tonight though; he was going to pull out all the stops. He’d wanted her since he caught sight of her lean, muscled legs sticking out of her tiny red running shorts.  He’d fallen in love with her slowly after that. In the six months she’d been on Skagos, not a day went by that they hadn’t texted. And anytime he had to make a business call to her, it turned into an hour long conversation about anything but insurance.  He hoped she felt the same, but she was so reserved, he knew he would have to be the one to stick his neck out on the block and say something. Tonight would be the perfect night.

He went to the hotel gym for a few hours until Bronn Blackwater, the Lannister family lawyer, texted him.

 

_ Where the fuck r u, cunt? _

 

Jaime wiped the sweat from his palm on his shorts and shook his head as he replied.  Bronn Blackwater was a brilliant corporate lawyer, and he also had a firm grasp of criminal law.  Tyrion had exercised that knowledge more than a few times. And yet for all that knowledge and money (he lived in a  _ castle _ for fuck’s sake) he was still a crass bastard that couldn’t type out a legible text if his life depended on it.

 

_ In the gym.  Want to grab lunch when I’m done? _

 

_ Fuck lunch and fuck gym.   Get ur ass to the bar now _

 

Jaime rolled his eyes.  Bronn had that enviable body type that was always in shape without trying.  He could run a marathon at the drop of a hat, regardless of if he’d drank a bar out of business the night before.  The gym was starting to fill up anyway, so Jaime called it a day and went to meet Bronn at the bar.

 

“The fuck is that?” Bronn asked as Jaime slid onto a black leather bar stool next to him.  Bronn’s sleek hair was slicked back and his face was clean-shaven, which only accentuated his pale blue eyes.  The man had a baseline expression of extreme nonchalance, but Jaime knew from working with him for years that the man had eagle eyes.

“What?” Jaime replied and ordered a Tarly Lite.  He didn’t want to get buzzed up before the party.

“All that scruff.  You think you're some Northman or something?”

“Oh, hah, yeah, it’s getting a bit full,” Jaime replied and stroked his beard.  He’d always hated shaving, and then at some point during their run together, Brienne had commented on his ‘nice beard’ and he hadn’t shaved since, only groomed it.

Bronn shrugged and then the conversation moved on from there.  Bronn grilled him about which women would be at the event tonight.  Jaime purposely left out Brienne--Bronn was always looking for a rich heiress to settle down with, even though he already had more money that he could hope to spend in his lifetime.  Jaime sometime wondered if it was a defense mechanism, and that in reality Bronn liked an entirely different sort of girl.

“And who’re you bringing, then?  Tyrion’s bringing that stripper, you know.  Your father’s going to shit a brick. Don’t worry, his will’s in order.”

“Her name’s Tysha,” Jaime said, his voice dipping lower.  Jaime very much liked Tysha. Yes, she was a stripper, and she was also quick-witted, intelligent, and kept his little brother in line.  And they loved each other. “You would do well to remember that.”

“Oh, get your panties out of a twist,” Bronn said and slapped him on the back between his shoulder blades.  “I got nothing against the girl. In fact, maybe the truth is that I’m a little jealous.”

“Then what are you doing chasing after heiresses and supermodels?” Jaime asked, raising his brows.

“Ah, fuck, I don’t know.  I guess I’m scared to go after what I really want.  Shit, I drank too much. I gotta go sleep this off before the party.  I’ll see you later.”

A nap wasn’t a bad idea, Jaime thought, and after putting the drinks on his room tab, he shoved back from the bar and headed upstairs.  It just so happened that he knew Brienne’s room was on the same floor as is. Hells, he knew her room number as he’d been the one to reserve it himself.  Some pathetic part of him had wanted to orchestrate a misunderstanding and put them both in the same room. They’d slept next to each other in a sleeping bag during that miserable Hafthor run.  He could still feel her body pressed against his. In his fantasy, they would come back from the party, a little tipsy from champagne, but just a little, and then he’d feign surprise when they realized they’d both been assigned the same room.  It was a concept straight out of a romantic comedy, or a porn flick, and obviously it was only a notion he could entertain in his dreams but could never actually do.

He ran his hand down the lapel of his black tux as he walked past it on the way to his bed.  He couldn’t resist texting Brienne one time before he laid down for his nap.

  
_I’ve got some songs requested, I hope you’re ready.  We’re not stopping until we cross that finish line._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to mention the song, editing to add!
> 
> The lyrics are from a Queen song, here's a YouTube link, not sure if it works or is allowed, never done that before.
> 
> "Don't Stop Me Now" by Queen. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HgzGwKwLmgM


	3. Chapter 3

Brienne’s stomach wasn’t right for the rest of the train ride.  The carriage was rocking quite a bit in the wind, so she chalked it up to that.  The sun rose back behind her on the eastern horizon just as the the Intermodal Station of Lannisport appeared in her window, she grabbed her bags from the top rack and waited on the edge of her seat expectantly.

The train rolled into a sleek, white stone tunnel that led into the enclosed passenger train yard.  Due to it being the holidays, the train was jam packed with travelers with not a seat to spare, so it took her some time to exit the train.

Once she was outside,  without thinking she breathed deep, wanting a breath of fresh air to steady herself.  Instead, she got a lungful of diesel exhaust that sent her into a coughing fit. She coughed so hard she gagged, tears streaming down her face.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” the conductor asked.

“Yes,” she squeaked between coughs.  Then she took a sip from her water bottle and finally caught her breath.  Not a good start, but after some breakfast and a nap, she would be ready to see Jaime.  Perhaps with a glass of wine or two on board, she would even dance with him. She’d belted out Queen with him the last time they’d been together, but it was one thing to embarrass herself in the middle of a dark forest and quite another to do it in front of business associates.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when the train engine suddenly vented out more exhaust behind her, and she managed to spill her water all over her garment bag.

“Yup, that’s about right,” she groaned as she stalked into the terminal in search of the ground transportation pick-up.  The dress would need to be hung up to dry once she got to her room. “At least it's just water,” she muttered to herself as she climbed into a cab.

 

The Sapphire Isle Hotel was a high-end luxury resort nestled along the coast of the Sunset Sea.  It was second in decadence only to the ancient seat of House Lannister, Casterly Rock, that stood proudly on a cliff overlooking the city of Lannisport.  The castle was ancient, dating back to the Age of Heroes. It would be a fascinating place to visit, she mused, as she took in the rocky outcroppings that, as her eye moved upward, slowly transformed into the architectural wonder of a castle carved straight from the cliff.

When she reached her room, she hung up her garment bag and slung her purse over the back of a chair and then stopped in her tracks.   _ Shit! _  Her tote bag was still in the trunk of the cab.  It had all her toiletries in it, plus the new makeup she’d just bought.

“Well, there goes a hundred dollars,” she sighed, thinking about the high-end products she’d only recently purchased.  She called the cab company--a machine answered and she left a message--then resigned herself to having lost a bag. At least the hotel supplied quality soaps and shampoos.  She wasn’t picky; whatever they had stocked the bathroom with would be fine as far as that was concerned.

A king-size bed sat in the center of the room with a large, flat-screened television hanging on the opposite wall.  Her window overlooked the ocean, and she smiled when she saw the stretch of blue out to the horizon. She couldn’t wait to be home.

After checking for damage to her dress and finding it only slightly damp, she hung it up to dry in the bathroom with the fan on, then ordered room service.

_ “Hello, Ms. Tarth, how can I help you?” _

“Yes, I’d like a cheeseburger and french fries please,” Brienne spoke into the phone.  At the thought of food, her mouth began to water, but it wasn’t quite in a pleasant way.  She frowned and pressed her lips together.

_ “Of course, and I will go ahead and put that on Mr. Jaime Lannister’s tab.” _

“I’m sorry, what?  No, that’s not right, please charge it to my room.”

_ “Mr. Lannister insisted that the stay was on him, Ms. Tarth.” _

Brienne tried to hold back a smile, as if the person on the other end of the line could see her.  There was no use fighting it now, and she was starving. She would pay Jaime back later. So she placed her order, promptly scarfed down a cheeseburger and fries, and then curled up in her bed to nap.

 

Even though she’d silenced her phone, the vibration was enough to rouse her from the light sleep she’d fallen into.  It was from Jaime, she recognized as her eyes focused on the screen. Something about song requests. But that was as far as she got, because suddenly her mouth was watering and her stomach heaved, and she barely made it to the bathroom before the entire contents of her stomach were expelled violently into the expensive porcelain toilet bowl.

When the dry heaves finally subsided, she was too exhausted to lift her head, resting it instead on her forearms on the seat.  After catching her breath and cleaning herself up, she tried to convince herself that it was simply that the burger had been too greasy, the fries too much for her stomach after traveling so far, but when she tried to leave the bathroom, her stomach gurgled and rolled again, and she was diving back for the toilet.

On her next attempt to leave the bathroom, she managed to grab the comforter off her bed before urge to vomit hit again.  She returned to the bathroom once more, any thoughts of attending the evening’s festivities a long lost thought in her mind.  All she wanted to do was lie down on the bathroom floor and pray the heaving would subside so she could fall back asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Jaime’s alarm went off at 4 pm, rousing him from his afternoon nap.  Napping was completely unlike him; he preferred to go hard all day and then go to bed early, but the party would run deep into the midnight hour, so he would have to stay awake past 8 pm tonight.  He slid out of his king size bed and opened the curtains, inviting in the afternoon rays of sun. His room faced westward, overlooking the bay of Lannisport. He’d booked Brienne’s room on the same side of the hotel; even though he’d grown up with the view, the west coast sunset still amazed him.

Brienne still had not texted him back, which was a bit odd, but she was probably still sleeping.  She’d traveled across the entire continent to be here, and she didn’t require the amount of primping time that he did.  It had become a ongoing joke between them in their months of texting. She could get up 15 minutes before she had to walk out the door, while he needed a solid 45, including time to sip coffee.

Jaime took a shower and then put on his playlist as he got ready for the evening.  He trimmed his beard a bit, making it look neat and tidy, but still full, and then brushed his teeth.  As he was putting on his tux, what he now mentally referred to as “their song” came on and he couldn’t help singing along.

“I’m a sex machine ready to reload, LIKE AN ATOM BOMB.”

His hips had a mind of their own as he gyrated to the beat and adjusted his bowtie, then he spun around once, incited by the words “I wanna make a supersonic woman of you!”

“Don’t stop me nowwwwww--” he belted out.

“I wouldn’t dare try,” Tyrion said from the door of the bathroom.  Jaime startled and was about to reprimand his brother for barging into his room, but Tyrion had a troubled look on his face and a glass of whiskey in his hand.  Neat. That was a bad sign.

Tyrion took a long sip of his drink then ran a hand through his curly blond hair.  “I have a problem. Tysha is mad at me.”

“Really? I’m surprised it took this long for you to annoy her.”

“We were getting ready for the party after having some mind-blowing sex--”

“TMI, but keep going,” Jaime said as he gelled his hair.

“She got her dress out of her garment bag and oh gods, Jaime.  I think I really stuck my foot in my mouth this time.” He took another drink, his mouth downturned into a painful frown.  “She pulled out this red sequined dress, and all I could think of was what Father would say when he saw it. I asked her if she really thought that it was appropriate for a company Christmas party, and then she asked me why, and ultimately it ended with her accusing me of being ashamed of her.”

“Ouch,” Jaime muttered.

“You’re not being very helpful,” Tyrion said in a clipped voice.

“Well, is she still here?” Jaime asked.  Tysha was quite headstrong so it wouldn’t have surprised him if she’d packed up and left already.

“Yes, I think so.”

“Go and apologize, and tell her you were being an asshole.  The fear of our father makes us all act bizarre and out of character sometimes.  And you love this woman, don’t you?”

“I do.”  Tyrion took a deep breath in and nodded his head.  “Yes, I do. I will go fix this. Is  _ your  _ woman still coming, by the way?”

“She’s not my woman, Tyrion.  She’s my friend.”

“Who you’ve been texting nonstop since you met her?”

Jaime couldn’t hold back a grin, and Tyrion let out an evil little chuckle.  Then Jaime’s phone beeped, indicating a new text message. It was from Brienne.

 

_ I’m sorry but I’m not going to make it down for the party.  I think I have the flu. Maybe we can get coffee tomorrow if this passes quickly. _

 

“What? No!” Jaime said out loud, then began typing a message back.

 

_ What do you need?  Are you in your room?  I’m not leaving you alone while you are sick. _

 

“What’s wrong?” Tyrion asked over the rim of his glass, eyebrows perked.

“Brienne says she has the flu and can’t come tonight.”

“Influenza has been rampant this year; the annual flu shot targeted the wrong strain, so it’s not been as effective.  I don’t want to worry you, but it can be quite serious sometimes. Knocks people out for a few days.”

“I need to go take care of her.  What should I bring her?” Jaime asked.  His brother had dabbled in the medical field in college, so he knew more about these things than Jaime did.

“I have a pain reliever and fever reducer in my room I can give you.  And a heating pad I use for my back. Get some Gatorade from the lobby.  She needs to stay hydrated. And rest,” Tyrion rattled off.

“Okay, I can do that,” Jaime replied as he put his dress shoes on.

“You know you’re receiving an award tonight, right?”

“What?” Jaime asked.  He hadn’t heard about this, and could only assume it was one of the “best of” awards that the company gave out every year.

“Yes, and Father will be insanely angry if you aren’t there to accept it.”

“Yes, fine, whatever.”  Jaime really couldn’t be bothered with that now, he needed to get to Brienne.  “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

 

Once Jaime had collected his supplies and made a quick stop at the front desk, he took the elevator to Brienne’s floor and walked down the plush carpeted hallway to her hotel room door.  He raised up his fist and knocked on the door.

Moments later, his phone went off with a text message.

 

_ Jaime, I’m FINE.  Please just let me be. _

 

Jaime shook his head.  Stubborn woman. He knocked again, this time more insistently.  His phone went off again.

 

_ NO. _

 

Jaime sighed and looked down at the key card in his hand.  He weighed his options. While he didn’t want to intrude uninvited, Brienne could be very sick and in need of help, and she would be the last person to ask for it.

“Sorry Brienne, but I’m coming in,” he said loud enough for his voice to carry into the room, then he slid the key card he’d gotten from the front desk through the reader and opened the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Brienne snuggled into the comforter and pillow she’d hauled into the bathroom and closed her eyes.  Her stomach had stopped rolling for the time being, and she was just about to fall asleep when  _ someone _ knocked on the door.  She’d already told Jaime she was fine and she didn’t need anything, but apparently he hadn’t listened.  She typed out a text to him, reiterating the same thing, only a bit more forceful this time.

She heard his phone beep out in the hallway and then silence.  Good, he’d left. She didn’t mean to shut him out, but she was in absolutely no condition to see him and there was nothing he could do to make her feel better anyway.

Then he knocked again.

In a moment of weakness, she thought about letting him in.  All she’d wanted to do was have a nice, normal evening at a company dinner party.  She never got dressed up, let alone wore makeup, and she’d been looking forward to this evening with him more than she wanted to admit.  But she texted him back simply “NO.”

She heard him grumble outside, and then he yelled to her through the door that he was coming in.  What?! He couldn’t get in, the door was locked. But then she heard the lock beep and the door open, and she barely managed to dive forward and slam the bathroom door closed before she heard him outside rambling off an apology peppered with justification for his actions.

“Are you in there?” he asked through the door.  His deep, smooth voice still managing to send a shiver down her spin even in her current state.

“How did you get in?” she demanded.

“My father owns the hotel.  I just went to the front desk and had them make me a key.”

“That’s outrageous.  And also quite disturbing.”  Her mouth started to water again.  All the activity had reawakened the beast.  She turned the faucet on full blast and put the overhead fan on as well in an attempt to drown out the sound of her being sick.  After leaning over the bowl for a few moments, she decided it was a false alarm and turned everything back off.

“What’s going on?” Jaime asked.  His voice was so close he must have been leaning against the door.

“Nothing, I’m fine, really.”

“No you’re not.  You’re sick. And why the hells have you quarantined yourself in the bathroom?  You should be laying in bed watching a movie marathon on cable or something. You have the flu, for Seven’s sake.”

“It’s not  _ that _ kind of flu,” Brienne replied.

“Oh,” was all he said.

“Yeah, oh.”

“Well, I don’t care.  You need to be in bed,” he charged on, “I’ll put the garbage can next to you just in case.”

“A garbage can?  That’s disgusting,” she protested.

“No it’s not.  Tyrion throws up in them all the time.  Now, please Brienne, come out of there.”

“There is zero chance of me coming out of here, Jaime.  Thank you for your concern, but I’ll be just fine.”

“Fine,” he said, “then I’ll just sit here until you do.  Gods, you’re a stubborn woman. You know we’ve already seen each other at our worst.  I think I was more disgusting after that race than I have ever been in my life.”

“That was different,” Brienne sighed as she lay back down on her comforter, resigned to the idea that Jaime was not going to be leaving anytime soon.

“How exactly?” he asked.  She could hear him unloading a bag and putting things on the little table outside the bathroom door.

“Well, we both looked and felt like shit then.  Now, I’m sure you look all put together and handsome, and I look terrible.”

There was silence and then she could hear the grin in his voice. “I’m sorry, did you just say I’m handsome?”

Of course he would turn this into a conversation about himself.  But he was here and concerned for her, and more than that, it was apparent that he wanted to spend time with her even if it was through a bathroom door.

“Oh, please, you know you’re handsome.  So what did you bring with you? Anything to drink by chance?”

“I have some Gatorade.  Tyrion also sent me with a heating pad and pain reliever, but that was when we thought you had the real flu, not a stomach bug.  Let me hand you the Gatorade.”

She washed her hands then cracked the door open and Jaime slipped a Gatorade to her.  Purple, her favorite. He must have remembered. But then she saw his wrist was clad in a tuxedo cuff and a tiny golden lion cuff-link.   _ Oh gods, he’s in a tuxedo. _  The mental image of Jaime in a tuxedo was almost enough to make her faint.   _ Okay, remember to breathe.  It’s going to be okay.  _ Their fingers touched briefly before he pulled his hand back and she shut the door again.

_ Keep your cool, keep your-- _

“You’re in a tux?!” she blurted out, then immediately clapped a hand over her traitorous mouth.

Jaime must have misinterpreted the hysteric tone in her voice as disapproval.  “I know,” he groaned, “I hate wearing one. They seem so pretentious. I kept the beard, though.  I wouldn’t bow to the man on that one.”

_ Oh. My. Gods.   _ She had to bite her fist to regain some semblance of control over her own body.  The idea of Jaime in a tux with a beard was just too much. What a cruel world that she was stuck in here and he out there.  Sure, she could always give in and open the door, but now that she was all flustered and turned on there was no way she could.

She took a drink of Gatorade and stood up to look at herself in the mirror.  She looked insane, with her hair stuck to the side of her face and a bright red blush spread across her chest, up her neck and into her cheeks.   _ Come on, Brienne, get a grip. _

“Want to play cards?” Jaime asked through the door.  “There’s a deck in here somewhere. Might as well find something to do to pass the time, because, once again, I’m not leaving.”

“Sure,” Brienne said, her voice sounding a bit breathless and squeaky.  Hopefully Jaime chalked it up to her being sick. She sat cross-legged on the floor and they proceeded to play game after game of The Crossing at the Twins, a simple yet infuriating card game, by sliding their cards back and forth under the door.

Once they grew tired of that, Brienne insisted that Jaime order himself some food to eat.  He got himself a sandwich and then passed her a piece of plain toast through the door. She nibbled at it tentatively as they chatted.  Their conversation eventually lead to Christmas plans.

“When does your flight leave for Tarth?” Jaime asked through a mouthful of sandwich.

“I don’t have to be at the airport until noon; we do Christmas dinner, so I don’t have to be home until late afternoon.  We have dinner and open presents then stuff ourselves full of cookies and binge watch Christmas movies. Just the usual, nothing special.”

“That sounds amazing,” Jaime said.  “I wish my family would do something like that.  Then again, maybe not, because then I would have to be around my family.  Some of them are alright, but some are clinically insane.”

Brienne laughed.  “Well, aren’t you at least going to go back home and be with your father and brother?”  Jaime’s sister was in prison for arson after she’d burned her ex boyfriend’s house to the ground--with him inside.  Only Tywin’s money and influence had kept her from facing an attempted homicide charge.

“Hah, no.  Tyrion will be hungover until gods’ know when, and my father is flying to Yi Ti first thing in the morning.  Some business deal.”

His dad was leaving on Christmas?  Brienne had been so busy feeling sorry for her pukey self , but now it dawned on her that Jaime was going to be all alone for Christmas, and that broke her heart.  She sent a quick text to her dad, then she and Jaime watched a movie together by streaming it over their phones, synchronizing them by pressing ‘play’ at the exact same time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion is trying to patch things up with Tysha, and then he is due at the company Christmas party...

After begging Tysha to let him back into their hotel room, professing his undying love, and giving her her Christmas present early (a pair of diamond stud earrings), it seemed their relationship was back on track.  It was not the first time she’d thrown Tyrion out, and, due to his sharp tongue and innate ability to offend everyone without even trying, it wouldn’t be the last either. Then she dropped the bomb on him that her boss, Chataya, was going to be coming as well.  Bronn had asked Tysha to set him up on a date, and now was as good as ever. Fucking hells, he needed a drink. Then he remembered he already had one in hand, so he drained it and poured another.

Tysha wore the red sequin dress, and gods if she didn’t look amazing in it.  She kept her hair and make up simple, the new diamond studs the only other sparkle on her.

“Well, what do you think?” she asked and turned in a circle.  “Will your father have a coronary or do I need to boost my boobs up higher?  I can do that.”

Tyrion grinned and took her hand.  “You look absolutely beautiful.” He kissed her knuckles, and then she stroked her hand down the side of his face.  He leaned into her touch and sighed, suddenly not giving a single fuck about anything he’d been worried about before.  He was so lucky to have Tysha.

“Thank you,” she said with an embarrassed little smile.

 

They met Bronn and Chataya at the hotel bar before going into the party.  Tysha wanted to introduce Tyrion to Chataya in a more intimate setting before they were bombarded by old friends and business associates.

Bronn looked dapper as ever, Tyrion noted.  The lawyer wore a perfectly tailored navy tux with a bow tie.  The bow tie was slightly off kilter, but that only added to his charm, as if he could barely be bothered to look in the mirror.

Chataya was...wow.  She was gorgeous and mature with warm, dark eyes that nearly smoldered in the light of the votives that burned on the bartop.  Her skin was such rich brown that it almost had a velvety appearance to it, and she wore her black hair in goddess braids down her back.  A very elegant yet simple white column dress adorned her statuesque frame, and she’d accented the look with diamond jewelry.

“Chataya, it is a pleasure to meet you,” Tyrion said and shook her hand.  She had a firm handshake, and Tyrion could already tell that she would be an excellent match for Bronn.  As the owner of the most successful gentlemen's club in town, the woman was a self-made millionaire. Not only was the club extremely high-end, but it was also a highly desirable place to work.  She treated her employees with respect and kept them safe.

“You as well, Tyrion.  Tysha has told me so much about you.  It’s lovely to meet the man who has made my friend so happy.”

Bronn drained his drink and then slid off his barstool.  “Alright then, let’s get this party started.”

The two couples walked into the company Christmas party, Chataya with her hand placed lightly in the crook of Bronn’s arm, and Tysha with her hand firmly in Tyrion’s own.

 

After enjoying appetizers of bacon-wrapped scallops and mushrooms stuffed with Frozen Sea crab, the foursome settled in at their table.  They were seated at the front of the hall near the stage and podium from which speeches and awards would be given. The tables were to seat six people, and Jaime was still noticeably absent.  Brienne was ill and understandably would not be able to make it, but Tyrion was beginning to grow concerned that Jaime would be a no-show as well.

Tyrion checked his phone discreetly beneath the table as he sipped his tumbler of scotch that Bronn had brought to him, along with one for himself.  Bronn was an interesting drinking buddy. He could go from apparently stone sober to insanely drunk in the span of minutes. Usually that was no problem, but sometimes it caught Tyrion by surprise and he ended up having to be babysitter for the evening.

He had no texts from Jaime, so Tyrion sent one.

 

_ How is Brienne doing?  The dinner is about to start FYI. _

 

Then Bronn cleared his throat.  “So, where the fuck’s your brother at then?  He’s supposed to get some award, isn’t he?”

“Jaime’s friend Brienne is sick and can’t make it tonight, so he’s just dropping off some supplies for her before joining us.”

“Oh,” Bronn said with a devilish grin, “so their upstairs fucking?”

“What?!  No, for gods’ sake,” Tyrion scowled and then his phone beeped.

 

_ She’s got the stomach flu.  Won’t come out of the bathroom so I’m staying here to take care of her. _

 

Tyrion’s brows shot up.  Well, that sounded ridiculous.  She could just lay in bed and throw up in a garbage can if she needed to.  Tyrion texted him back, saying as much.

 

_ She’s adamant and quite stubborn.  Sorry but you are going to have to go on without me tonight.  I’m not leaving her. _

 

“Fucking hells,” Tyrion muttered.  Well, this was wonderful. His father would blow a gasket when Jaime failed to deliver an acceptance speech, and Tywin would somehow place all the blame on Tyrion.

“What?” Bronn asked then sucked down the last of his scotch  He had a twinkle in his pale blue eyes that Tyrion knew all too well.  He was going to be sloshed in the next hour.

“Jaime’s not coming,” Tyrion muttered then pocketed his phone.  And then the room fell silent as Tywin Lannister entered the hall.

“Oh gods,” Tyrion said and finished his own drink.

“Fuck it. I say we go up there right now and get this introduction out of the way.  He’s going to be bombarded by ass kissers and won’t have time to say anything about Tysha.”

“What?” Tysha said, perking up at her name.  Chataya reclined in her chair and crossed one leg over the other beneath her dress, simply quirking a fine eyebrow.

“Tyrion was just saying we should go introduce you to his father.  My lady,” Bronn said and held out his arm to Chataya. She smiled and took his arm, then Tysha rose and looked at Tyrion expectantly.  There was no going back now, and Tyrion took her hand and led her across the room to his father, feeling like he was walking to the gallows.

 

“Tyrion,” Tywin said as they approached.  He looked from Tyrion to Tysha and back again.  “Where is Jaime?” Then Tywin’s eyes zeroed in on Tysha’s dress and they turned to daggers.  “And who is this?”

“Father, this is Tysha, my girlfriend.  Tysha, this is my father, Tywin.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Tysha said and stuck out her hand assertively.

Tywin frowned and Tyrion could tell he was about to say something horrible when Bronn and Chataya walked up.  Tywin’s eyes widened ever so slightly when he saw Chataya, and Tyrion thought perhaps he was struck by her beauty.

“Mr. Lannister, Merry Christmas,” Bronn said with a grin.  “This is Chataya.”

Chataya raised a delicate, finely sculpted brow and gave Tywin a closed-mouth smile.

“Yes, well, it’s lovely to meet you all,” Tywin said gruffly.  Then he took Tysha’s hand and shook it formally. “I hope to see more of you in the future,” he added then turned to the next couple of party-goers in line to greet him, effectively ending the conversation.

Tyrion felt light as a feather.  It had seemed like his father was going to ruin everything by commenting on Tysha’s outfit or her profession, but instead he’d been rather  _ pleasant _ .  For him, anyway.

Bronn and Tyrion stopped at the bar and grabbed drinks for themselves and the ladies.  When they returned to the table, Chataya had an undeniable smirk on her face and Tysha’s lips were pressed together, eyebrows raised in surprised delight.

“What are you two up to?” Bronn asked as he slid into his chair.  He almost fell off the other side but Chataya caught him by the elbow.  He gave her a grateful nod.

“Oh nothing, we were just talking about how Chataya knows your father,” Tysha said to Tyrion as he handed her a ridiculously fruity cocktail.

“You know my father?” Tyrion asked.

“Of course, though I don’t know him by that name.  He is my club’s best customer,” Chataya said with a wicked lilt to her voice.

Tyrion’s jaw dropped.  The stuffy, pretentious, holier-than-thou Tywin Lannister frequented Chataya’s gentlemen’s club?  In disguise?! Oh this was fantastic.

“So that’s why he behaved himself,” Bronn said.  “The old bastard’s usually got something smart to say.”

“Yes, it is not good business to divulge information on my patrons, but I trust you all will keep it to yourselves.  It may come in handy when dealing with him in the future,” she said, directing that last bit at Tysha.

 

Tyrion was floating on a cloud, he was so happy to have the Tysha-Tywin introduction behind him, and this new information from Chataya only made everything sweeter.  He enjoyed his steak medium rare with a side of roasted asparagus and buttered baked potato. Bronn brought them more drinks. They chatted and laughed without a care in the world.  The servers brought out dessert, a delicious cheesecake topped with Westerland berries and whipped cream. Jaime’s absence was now a long lost thought, until..

 

“And the award for most valuable salesman goes to...Jaime Lannister!”

Oh fuck.  Jaime. Where the hells was he?  Not here, obviously, Tyrion thought as he drunkenly squinted at Jaime’s empty chair.  The hall broke into heartfelt applause. Jaime may be Tywin’s son, but this was his first ever award, and everyone knew he deserved it.

The announcer at the podium began to look around the room.  “Come on, Jaime, the bar will still be there when you get back!” the announcer said, trying to make a joke, but only managing to make it even more awkward that Jaime wasn’t coming up to get his award.

“What should we do?!” Tyrion hissed at Bronn who was sprawled in his chair.  His cheeks were red and hair disheveled, and he was in the middle of some legal debate with Chataya who seemed to be enjoying herself.

“Ah, fuck, where the hells is he?” Bronn said, jerking to attention.

“He’s upstairs still.  Father’s going to kill us if we don’t do something quick.”

Bronn squared his jaw and slammed the rest of his drink, then put the glass down on the table with a clunk.  “It’s alright, I’ve got this,” he slurred and sauntered to the podium. Tyrion was too stunned to stop him, and was only able to sit there, jaw agape, as Bronn took the award and leaned into the microphone.

 

“Nice party, eh?”  Bronn said as he gestured to the hall.  The hall applauded hesitantly. “Well, you all know I’m not Jaime.  Not pretty enough, I reckon. Well anyway, I’m Bronn Blackwater, the family lawyer.  I know the little brother better--gotten him out of a bind or two. But enough about me.  Jaime is no doubt honored to receive this award, but not honored enough to be here. He can’t come down because he’s upstairs with his friend,” and Bronn put air quotes around friend.  “Now this friend is a lady friend, and well, she’s sick. Like really sick, not sick in the head. Anyway, I’m told their not fucking, but well, I have my doubts--”

Tywin cleared his throat loudly in the front row.  He looked like he was about to murder his own lawyer.  Only then, who would defend him for said murder? Tyrion was so drunk he actually spent a solid few moments contemplating this conundrum.

“Ah, sorry, I’ll wrap this up.  Jaime’s a great salesman, and I guess we’ll see how good he really is at closing the deal tomorrow morning, if you know what I mean!”  Bronn burst into a lascivious laugh as he banged on the podium. “Ah, alright, anyway, I’ll be at the bar.” He stopped talking abruptly and simply walked away from the podium.

The hall was dead silent until Tyrion girded his loins, stood up from his chair and started a slow clap.  Tysha and Chataya joined in, and before long the crowd was cheering and whistling for Bronn as he wobbled his way to the bar.

“Well, on that note, would you care for a dance, my lady?” Tyrion asked, extending his hand to Tysha. She took it with a demure smile and they headed out to the dance floor.


	7. Chapter 7

Brienne woke up the next morning feeling a thousand times better than the day before.  Even after sleeping wrapped in a comforter on the bathroom floor, she was refreshed and full of energy.  She’d fallen asleep halfway through the movie she and Jaime had been watching, early enough that he would not have missed the majority of the company Christmas party downstairs.  Hopefully he’d still been able to make an evening of it.

The stomach bug seemed to have officially passed; she hadn’t throw up for nearly twelve hours now.  She planned on brushing her teeth a few hundred times and taking a shower. Then she would be ready to meet up with Jaime for breakfast and somehow work up the nerve to invite him to Tarth for Christmas.

She stripped off her clothes and turned the shower on, letting out a little sigh as hot steam filled the bathroom.  Her shampoo and conditioner were in her toiletry bag on her bed, she she opened the door without thinking and nearly tripped over Jaime who was sleeping outside the door.

After barely catching herself on the door frame, she stumbled back, whipped the towel off the rack and wrapped it around herself.  Holy shit, he was still here and he was sound asleep on the floor in his tux, the bowtie loosened and dress shoes kicked off to reveal black no-show athletic socks--of course he would refuse to wear dress socks--and the little bit of his ankle that showed between the end of his pant leg and the top of his sock was a delicious cherry on top of the Jaime sundae spread before her.

Sweet Mother, it was the hottest thing she’d ever seen.  She quietly closed the door before her wobbly legs gave out on her; she had to brace herself against the sink.  Okay, step one, brush and floss her teeth ASAP, like at least five times. Step two, shower really really good. Step three, sneak out of the bathroom to get clothes before Jaime woke up and caught her in nothing but a towel.

_ Maybe we could just fuck then, _ the irrational, turned-on part of her brain whispered.

Heat bloomed in her belly as all kinds of dirty images flashed through her mind.  Yup, better make that a cold shower.

 

She made it all the way to step three, and was rummaging through her suitcase as silently as possible to get fresh clothes for the day, when she heard Jaime yawn behind her.

“Well, good morning,” he said, his voice still rough with sleep.  “How are you feeling?” he asked as she turned to face him. He must have seen the blush in her cheeks from being caught half naked, because he smirked and added,” Nice towel.”

Brienne tightened the fabric around her body.  “I feel great, actually. I...I thought you would have gone down to the party after I fell asleep.  But you stayed.”

Jaime just shrugged and got up off the floor.  “Yeah, I did.”

“Umm… so would you like to go to breakfast?”

“That sounds great.  Want to eat downstairs or should we go explore the local scene a bit?  You have time before your flight, right?” He had such a hopeful expression on his face that it gave Brienne a renewed burst of confidence.

“Sounds good, do you want to go change maybe?”

“I probably should; I hate these things,” he said, gesturing to his tux, “and if Tyrion sees me, he will assume this is the ultimate walk of shame.”

Brienne grinned.  “I am rather disappointed I didn’t get to meet your brother.”  Tyrion sounded like a fun and witty person to be around.

“Well, there’s time for that,” he said, and her heart skipped a beat at what he could possibly mean by that.  “According to what I can decipher from my texts” he continued, “Tyrion and Bronn got real lit up, and then Bronn delivered a rousing acceptance speech in my stead for some award I won.”

“Oh gods,” she said.  She  _ had _ met Bronn when the contract between Tarth Hotels and West Coast insurance had been drawn up.  He was a handful, even within the confines of a board room and under the watchful eye of Tywin Lannister.  Brienne could only imagine what happened when Bronn was given access to an open bar.

“Yeah,” he said, and then his demeanor shifted and she saw him rake his eyes down her body, lingering on her legs.  He swallowed dryly and then forced his eyes back up to meet hers. His neck went blotchy red in embarrassment. “Sorry, I, um,” he stuttered and swallowed again.  Then he seemed to square his shoulders and his swagger came back, ‘Your legs are even better than I remember.”

_ Eep, _ said her brain.  And that was all it could offer for a time, as if it had short circuited or melted into jelly.  Her  _ body _ on the other hand, had a lot to say.  Her pulse quickened, a knot coiled low in her belly, and, while her mouth may have been tongue tied, her eyes apparently had a lot to say, like “come put your body on mine.”

Jaime got the message, and in the blink of an eye she was in his arms and they were kissing and groping at one another like they had been waiting for forever to do it.  She ran a hand into his hair and he moaned against her lips. His palm slid down her back and then across her ass, dipping lower still until he touched the bare skin of the back of her thigh.  She shuddered at the sensation then raised her leg up a bit, urging his fingers to go elsewhere, toward where she wanted them the most.

“Oh fuck, Brienne, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he said when he realized what she was giving him permission to do.  She was wet already and it didn’t take long for before ache pulsed between her legs with each beat of her heart. She went for his waistband and he bit down on her lip when her hand reached its destination, wrapping around him as her other hand freed him from his tuxedo pants.  He laid her back on the bed and then she was lost in him, their bodies moving together as if they’d been made for it.

 

After a delightful nap, the kind which only happens post-orgasm, Brienne woke up with Jaime curled around her, his breath slow and steady against her ear.  She had no idea what time it was. For all she knew she could have missed her flight.  _ Meh, there are other flights. _  She turned around to face him and he opened his eyes and gave her a wicked grin.

“Well, Miss Tarth, fancy meeting you here,” he rumbled and nosed into her neck, his lips sucking on the soft skin there.

“Yes, a bit awkward, since I’m quite sure this is only the second time we’ve met,” she quipped back.

He chuckled and then pulled her close.  “I feel like you know me better than anyone.”

“I know,” Brienne murmured in agreement.  They’d been talking nonstop for months upon months without the complication of a physical relationship to get in the way or to prolong things when it should have ended.  She’d had more pure, unadulterated conversation with him than anyone else in her life. “So, um, this may be poor timing to ask, but I was wondering--”

“Yes,” Jaime interrupted.

“Yes?” Brienne echoed back, confused.  “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

Jaime’s lips returned to hers, and in between kisses he replied, “Well whatever it is, I’m sure I want to do it.  I have the next week off, so…”

“So, you would come to Tarth for Christmas?”

“I’d go anywhere if it was for Christmas with you.”

She smiled and kissed him.  "Merry Christmas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, especially you TeamGwenee :D


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